


hold on, my love (i'll tell you the truth, but never goodbye)

by boringcereal



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Lena Luthor Needs a Hug, Light Angst, basically lena says fuck this shit im out and fucks off to ireland, everything will turn out alright, i mention non nocere if only so i can tear it to pieces, it doesn't end sad don't worry!!, it was super cathartic to write so i hope it's cathartic to read, lena does some healing, lord does she need it shes baby and deserves the world, my favorite genre of lena fics, so i decided to do one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:00:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23834992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boringcereal/pseuds/boringcereal
Summary: The cottage is nicely lit, is the first thing Lena notices. It’s quaint, if a little rickety, but it’s nothing she can’t fix. She can already picture it now: gardens with flowers and nice, long days reading out on the porch.Lena knows that sooner or later, someone is going to track her down. To demand something of her, maybe. But for now, she breathes in the crisp air. Basks in the warmth of golden rays of sunlight that peek out from behind distant mountains, the ones that signal the incoming morning. Feeling lighter already, she adjusts the duffel bag she has slung over her shoulder, hesitating for just a moment, before she takes a step toward the inviting building.Her new home.ORLena finds healing, slowly but surely.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 28
Kudos: 421





	hold on, my love (i'll tell you the truth, but never goodbye)

Lena’s on her 97th test for Non Nocere of the day, watching the failure screen, outlined, underlined, and bolded in red for what was probably the millionth time, when she suddenly notices the deep ache, the weariness that rattles inside of her, begging to be seen. She's on her 97th test when she realizes.

_God, I’m tired. So, so tired._

She’s exhausted, even.

Absolutely, undeniably, _exhausted_.

She eyes the stacks of coffee cups and the energy bar wrappers, the way they litter her workspace, her floor, her _life_ . And for the first time in what feels like forever, Lena _sees._

The clouds part, the tunnel vision opens up, dilates like something reminiscent of a camera shutter, and she _sees_ . Sees this snapshot into what her life has become. What she’s _doing_.

She looks down at her trembling hands, which haven’t stopped shaking ever since last week (a gift from her body for all of the caffeine she’s consumed, the nights she didn’t spend sleeping), watching them with an almost-morbid fascination. Studies the deep-blue veins laced through them, the individual hairs on each knuckle, the way they protrude from her skin, each one a product of her own body’s creation. Turns her hands back and forth, back and forth, clenches them. Releases them. Curling each individual finger, she feels the weightlessness of them, of her hands, the way they bend and move and touch at will. It’s a miracle of life, she thinks. She’s here. Present. And no matter what she thinks, no matter what she sees, the failures she’s racked up throughout her life, the people lost…

She still has herself. Her hands. Her legs. Her eyes, her shoulders, her body, her _mind_.

And with this sudden clarity, she stops.

Pauses.

And sinks down to sit on the floor.

Her hands are far from clean, she knows. Her legs are exhausted from sprinting at a breakneck pace her whole life. Her eyes have seen far, far too much. She shudders at the thought of Jack dying in front of her, the thought of all the tragedies she’s witnessed. 

And her shoulders-

She’s suddenly aware of the tension she holds, the responsibility, the guilt, the _everything_ on them. In her entire body. It runs throughout her veins now, she’s sure. Alongside the caffeine. Coffee is all she’s had these past few weeks, aside from some energy bars and a sandwich here and there.

God.

How long has it been since her last proper meal? When did she last sleep for more than 3 hours at a time, consecutively?

She looks at her hands again, the way they tremble, tremble, tremble. Looks in the glass reflection of the lab counter in front of her. Lena sees-

Sunken eyes. Digging cheekbones. A pale, ashen face.

The ghost who gazes back at her looks... 

_Tired_.

But she doesn’t need to see that to feel the tendrils of weariness of that snake somewhere deep, deep within her bones.

Lena closes her eyes, bracing her head back onto the cold, hard surface.

She is _so_ sick of things. She’s _sick_ of trying to save a world that doesn’t want to be saved. She’s _sick_ of pouring every ounce of herself into people who wouldn’t _trust_ her, no matter how much she tried to prove that she was _good_ . No matter how much of herself she pours, even once all that’s left of herself are droplets of trauma and pain, and _guilt_ . Guilt that there isn’t any more of herself to _give_. That even then, she’s still not enough.

She’s not enough.

Not for anyone.

Not for herself, even.

She thinks of Non Nocere, of her mission, of Lex, of his manipulation, of blue eyes, of deception, of heartbreak. She thinks of the DEO, of Brainy, and Nia and Kelly, of all people, of Jack, of Andrea. Of Sam. Of her mother.

Lena can almost-just-remember, can almost feel the rhythmic cadence of her mother’s voice when she used to sing her to sleep. She thinks of a melodic laugh that tickles at the edges of her memory, remembers the flash of a warm smile here and there, a flutter of eyelashes, the bounce of red curls. A blurry face. Flashes of memories that are out of reach, just-so. Not enough to remember. But not enough to forget.

She doesn’t know which is worse.

She thinks of fresh dirt. Sunlight. Green, green grass and yellowing brush, she tries to remember cozy glows and creaks in the floor. Blue, blue skies. Ireland.

Her eyes snap open.

Her mind whirs. 

And she makes a decision, then.

She knows what she needs to do.

\--

Disappearing isn’t easy, she knows. Especially when you were formerly in the spotlight, under scrutiny at all times. If she’s going to do this, she needs to do it right. And smart.

Lena buys the first acceptable remote cottage she can find, scrubs the database completely clean of anything _related_ to Non Nocere, and packs what few meaningful possessions she has into a duffel bag, tucked in between some clothes. Necessities like books and cooking supplies and tableware, she packs into several cardboard boxes. The rest—furniture, expensive dresses, bitter memories—she leaves behind covered in thrown sheets and boxes and carefully packaged good-byes. She decidedly does not think about a box of all the things that remind her of Kara. A broken picture frame, movie-ticket stubs, funny mugs, and knitted sweaters. She doesn’t.

She puts whatever shares she has in _Luthorcorp_ (ugh) under a trust, withdraws some money, and goes through the database again to make absolutely certain that no one can trace her.

She does it all in one night, and it’s almost morning by the time she finishes.

It’s single-handedly the most spontaneous thing she’s ever done. And she’s moved to the other side of the country for-

For _her_. 

And partly for herself, maybe.

But mostly… for _her._

Kara.

A new continent is another thing entirely though, surely, but-

In any case.

It’s fascinating to see how her entire life can be packed away into one compact bag, in a cardboard box or two.

And a phone call to cash in on a favor later, she’s secured her mode of transportation to leave whatever sad, twisted, lonely life she had behind.

\--

The cottage is nicely lit, is the first thing Lena notices. It’s quaint, if a little rickety, but it’s nothing she can’t fix. She can already picture it now: gardens with flowers and nice, long days reading out on the porch.

Bus after bus, after greyhounds to ferries, (all taken immediately after her private plane touched the ground in an attempt to throw off her trail), and after a final long, long car ride through rural land, it’s a welcome sight. 

Lex may have discovered that she’s gone by now. For a brief moment, she wonders if he’d be worried. She scoffs, then. Whatever person he’d been in the past is gone now. Done away with by time and manic obsession. He’d be more upset about the loss of all her data for Non Nocere.

Lena knows that sooner or later, someone is going to track her down. To demand something of her, maybe. But for now, she breathes in the crisp air. Basks in the warmth of golden rays of sunlight that peek out from behind distant mountains, the ones that signal the incoming morning.

Feeling lighter already, she adjusts the duffel bag she has slung over her shoulder, hesitating for just a moment, before she takes a step toward the inviting building.

Her new home.

Very much like her first one, from all those years ago.

\--

It’s a bit of an adjustment. Never in her life had she, as far as she can remember, ever woken up without having a long, long checklist of all the things she had to do that day. It was exhausting. The list, neverending.

Life is simple in solitude.

There are no expectations, no responsibilities, really, except for things Lena holds herself to.

There’s no one to ask things of her. No one for her to ask things of. 

(It’s lonely.)

But she manages.

(It’s better this way, anyway.)

For now, she wakes up to birds chirping outside of her window and brews tea in kettles. Listens to the breeze, the way it blows through wind chime leaves and crisp tallgrass as she sips on comfort outside on her porch, book pages creased between her fingers.

Time, she realizes, is a luxury she was never afforded. 

She has plenty of it now, however.

(It’s liberating.)

She spends it on poetry and long naps in the shade, on quiet nights of cooking as music fills her home through the sizzle of sauteed vegetables. She spends it on peaceful mornings and bright, clear afternoons of tending to her growing garden.

The quiet is soothing and welcome.

It’s what struck her all the time, the quiet. She’s grateful for it.

But a few weeks in, once the novelty starts to wear off, the quiet is not conducive to forgetting unwanted things, unwanted memories. She feels her mind wander.

Tugging away at the weeds, one day, she thinks about Non Nocere. A project she understands now, with the clarity that comes from getting away from _everything_ , was a product of her hurt. To think she craved validation so much, she was willing to take it from the hand that had struck her so many times before. She’s disgusted. And thankful she had the good sense to scrub the servers of the project completely.

She thinks about Kara, wonders if she’s worried or _relieved_ that Lena’s gone.

(She doesn’t like to think about it.)

But she did, along with everything else, when the nights were long. She laid in bed every night, watching her ghosts manifest in the dark, in the solitude when she first arrived. Finally, finally, finally, when the world was no longer on her shoulders, when she wasn’t expected to hold it all together, when the pressure to be good was gone, when she was allowed to just _be_ … She allowed herself to fall apart. Let the waves of hurt, of betrayal, of _regret_ seep through the cracks until she was more gap than flesh and bone. Until her room flooded, until she choked on salt and cut ties. Underwater, she breathed in the blue, night after night, until she found rest in the crevices of her body. And every morning, she awoke to stillness. Sunlight. Air. The water always left by then, left her pieces intact, a little smoother, a little less jagged each time, left her feeling…

  
_Clean._

If she were to put herself together with them now, they wouldn’t form the same woman who left National City with a gaping chest and weary eyes, she thinks. She wonders if she’d recognize herself. If everyone who used to know her would.

It doesn’t matter, anyway, what everyone back at ho- what everyone back at National City thinks. They may as well be dead to her. She’s dead to them, anyhow. Basically fallen off the face of the Earth.

Brushing dirt off of her garden gloves, she stands up, deciding that she’s done.

She goes inside to fetch a basket and the keys to the old, modest Subaru she bought to drive out here. She’s going to town.

There are some nice old ladies there who make pleasant conversation with her as she buys their bread and pastries. (They talked about Joan of Arc and Nikita Gill’s poetry, once.) The place is tranquil, with the occasional bursts of laughter from across the street, and nobody there recognizes her. They don't suspect that her jeans and her sweaters hold the body of a broken woman who almost went too far.

Instead, they greet her warmly and ask her how her radishes are coming along.

(She gets a little choked up if she thinks about it for too long.)

Lena doesn’t know if she’s ever been this at peace in her life, minus the few years she’d lived before being taken into the Luthor household.

She didn’t know it could be like this, never imagined she had this option.

(She’s glad that she eventually does.)

.

.

.

Walking down the small street, something in a store window catches her eye. She steps inside to look, to pick up a teddy bear, one that reminds her so, so much of one that was taken from her, one that she watched being forced into a garbage bag overflowing with picture books and naivete through tearful eyes. Of Miss Pizzly.

Lena brushes her palms along the brown fur, fingers at a bow and glassy eyes. She looks up at the store clerk.

“I’ll take this one, please.”

“For your child, miss?”

The man rings up the purchase.

“Something like that.”

\--

It takes six months for someone to find her. Six blissful, peaceful months.

Lena’s boiling some water for her morning tea when her front door almost gets blown off its _hinges_ and in steps… 

_Kara._

Supergirl, to be more exact.

She comes in looking harried and a little worse for wear.

“Lena,” she breathes out, eyes softening, drinking in the sight of her.

Lena tries to ignore the way her stomach drops and the way her heart twists in her chest. Tries not to display her annoyance.

“Well, hello to you too.”

Oops.

“And what’s the deal with you always interrupting my tea time, anyway?”

Double oops.

Kara stops.

Takes a look at her surroundings, at the books stacked on Lena’s coffee table, the draped blanket and throw pillow on her couch. The life she’s made for herself, out here.

“I- You’re not in danger.”

Her shoulders seem to relax, then.

“Well, I’m in danger of not being able to drink my tea in _peace_.”

They both eye the front door, which now hangs from a single wobbly hinge.

Kara at least has the decency to look sheepish.

“Sorry, I’ll- I’ll fix it.”

“No need. There aren’t intruders around, anyw-” Lena takes a long, deliberate look at her. “Actually, on second thought. Yes. I want a new door by the end of the week.”

“Okay.”

And then the only sound in the room is the whistle of the kettle.

Lena turns to switch off the stove and takes out a mug from her shelf.

“Nice talk,” she says. “Now please leave.”

From behind her, she can hear Kara shuffle her feet.

“Lena-”

“What are you doing here?”

She pours some of the boiling, scalding water into her stained mug.

“Actually, forget it. I don’t care.”

(Maybe she does, a little bit.)

(But Kara doesn’t need to know that.)

“I could ask you the same thing. I’ve been looking all _over_ for you, Lena.”

The admission settles uncomfortably in her gut.

“Yeah, to make sure I wasn’t underground, plotting something nefarious, probably.”

“No, that’s not-”

“Well, you found me. You can leave now.”

She snaps a cabinet door open to take out a tea strainer, next. Then a canister of loose tea leaves.

“Lena-”

Lena can hear the uncertainty in Kara’s voice from her cold, distant behavior.

“Lena, you _have_ to come back, Lex-”

She whirls around, then.

“I don’t _have_ to do anything, Kara! And _don’t_ mention my sociopathic brother’s name. I’m _sick_ of hearing about him all the time. _Lex_ , the golden boy, _Lex_ , the maniac killer, Lex, Lex, Lex. Almost _everything_ I’ve ever done was in _reaction_ to him, not out of my own volition. My entire _life_ has been under his shadow, under his influence. I’m _sick_ of it being the Lex Luthor show.”

Silence.

“I- I’m sorry.” Kara says weakly.

“Why are you asking for my help, anyway? Why come and find me? I’m a villain to you, aren’t I?"

Kara’s face pinches.

“No, that night- I worded it weirdly, I don’t-”

“Do you want to feed me validation, keep me docile? All so you can keep an eye on me? So I can be your little pet, lapping up all the praises whenever I do something good, but never earn your trust?”

There’s silence for a few moments, but the look on Kara’s face is deafening.

She speaks, finally, slowly.

“No, I came to find you because I thought you were in _danger_ , Lena. I thought Lex might’ve done away with you for good.”

“Well, I’m not in danger.”

“Can you- can you come back, then? The world needs you.”

Lena scoffs. “The world hates me.”

Kara opens her mouth to protest, but-

“No. You guys have been handling disasters fine, well before I came to National City, haven’t you? The world doesn’t need me.”

Lena turns back to her mug, which has gone cool by now. She mutters irritably, dumping the water into the sink and pouring out some thankfully-still-hot water from the kettle. She dunks the strainer filled with tea leaves in, almost frustratedly.

“I’m doing the world a favor.”

“By doing what, hiding? This isn’t you, Lena!”

Lena turns towards her again. Faces her outburst.

“I’m not _hiding_ , Kara! I’m finally putting myself first for _once_ in my entire goddamn life! I’m fucking tired of it all, okay? Why _else_ do you think I’m here?”

The unspoken words swirl in the still air between them.

She picks up her mug of tea and cradles it in her hands, half-covered by her sleeves, trying to draw some warmth out of it. Takes a small sip. It’s not ready yet, she realizes. The tea still isn’t strong enough.

Kara looks closer at her then, past all of her own relief at seeing Lena alive. Sees the subtle bags under her eyes that haven’t fully faded away yet, sees the set of her shoulders, still carrying a burden that wasn’t hers to start with.

Her eyes soften, almost sadly.

Lena sets the drink, sets the pieces of her heart that are still rough and serrated from years and years of being mishandled, down onto the counter and looks down at the floor.

“Please. You should go back.”

They’re both silent for a moment.

“Okay,” Kara says, quietly.

She turns to move towards the door, still looking back to gaze at Lena with something imperceptible in her eyes.

And flies off in a gust of wind, almost like she was never there in the first place.

The only evidence she was there is a broken door and a still-broken Lena, staring at the space she used to occupy.

\--

True to her word, Kara comes back, apology and subdued greeting on her lips, tool belt around her hips, and new door in arms to replace the broken one two days later.

The super makes quick work of it, taking mere minutes to take down the old one and install the new. The only sound is the creak of the door and the whirring of the drill. They say nothing to each other.

Lena sits on her porch, reading her book and glancing up every now and then.

Once Kara finishes, she packs up her tools and looks at Lena, giving her a small, hesitant smile, before turning to leave.

Lena wishes she could get herself a new heart, somehow.

“Wait,” Lena starts.

Kara pauses and turns to look at her.

“I- I can’t promise that I will, but I’ll probably come back. Not yet. But. Eventually.”

Lena watches the hope shimmer in her eyes and resolves that yes, she will. She’ll come back.

“I just- I need time, okay? Please just- let me be for now. Let me be a little selfish for a while.”

She listens to the chirping of the birds, the rustle of the leaves, and feels the wind that swirls against their skin as they stand there together, suspended in time, on the porch, their worlds connected by a single thread that refuses to be cut, no matter how much Lena might hack at it. The sun feels nice, and the moment significant, somehow. Lena thinks she’ll look back on it one day and realize that there was a turning point, a single axis that finally, finally shifted everything, hidden somewhere between the sunlight and the breeze.

“Okay,” she says.

Kara smiles at her, a little fuller, a little brighter.

“I’ll wait for as long as you need me to.”

Simple as that.

\--

And then, it’s back to quiet mornings and even-quieter evenings. Books and gardening and soup. A few days later, Lena allows her mind to wander towards scientific things, again. It’s in her nature, after all.

She starts a lab in her old, musty basement, filling it with microscopes and centrifuges, among other necessary things that she flies in with drones. Spends a few hours in there at a time, emerging to eat when she feels hungry and reading outside when she begins to feel frustrated, instead of bulldozing through all of her body’s protests.

It may be a better way of working, of going about things, she thinks.

She’s healing.

Improving.

One day at a time.

.

.

.

The bell chimes pleasantly as she opens the door to Mrs. Keenans’, breathing in the homey atmosphere and the smell of freshly baked bread.

“Lena! Nice to see you today, dear.”

“Hey, Mrs. Keenan,” she smiles. “Do you have any sourdough or rye today? I’m running low.”

“Of course, coming right up!” The woman turns to crane her neck to the right, towards the shop kitchen. “Honey, could you get me a few loaves of rye? Throw in a few extra buns and tarts, too!”

“No, no it’s alright, Mrs. Keenan, I’d hate to keep taking-”

A head of white hair pops out of the kitchen.

“Is that Lena’s voice I hear?”

“Yes, it’s Lena, honey.”

  
  
The women smile warmly at her.

A far cry from the sad, pitying looks they gave her—along with a few extra loaves of bread—the first time she shuffled into their shop in her pale, skeletal state, months and months ago.

The other Mrs. Keenan—she’s told Lena to call her Mrs. K to avoid confusion—peers at her over silver-rimmed glasses.

“Ah, indeed it is. And looking much rosier, too. Good, good.”

Mrs. Keenan bags up the bread.

“That’ll be €7.29, dear.”

Lena hands her the money with a smile.

“How are the grandkids? Has Riley gotten into any more trouble since her last incident?”

The two of them chuckle.

“No, thank goodness,” Mrs. K says. “She’s a real handful, but she’s behaving a little more these days. A wild one, she is.”

“I’ll bet,” Lena says, laughing with them.

“And you, dear? How are you doing?”

Though there’s still a lightness in the air, their faces turn that little bit more serious and worried, that little bit more motherly.

Something she’s never experienced. Lillian had always been sharp tones and barbed-wire skin, blaming her for things outside of her control constantly and never, ever, asking her how she was, much less her opinion on life-altering decisions. Something in Lena aches at the sight, wishing things were far, far different, sometimes.

But she’s here now, isn’t she? Laughing and making conversation?

She hadn’t been given much in terms of shining parental figures and a normal childhood, but she’s here now and she can make do with what she has.

“I’m doing better. Doing well,” she says, truthfully. For the first time in a long, long while, she means it, wholeheartedly.

“We’re glad to hear it, dearie.”

She leaves the store feeling lighter, even with her extra load of bread.

\--

Two months later, Lena’s tending to her radishes and carrots, intending to harvest some for a soup when she hears a crunching of dry dirt and the distinct slam of a car door.

She looks off into the distance to see telltale short, cropped red hair, paired with a stern look.

God.

  
  
Lena watches to see Alex knock on the door, tapping her foot impatiently when nobody answers. She starts peering into the windows, making circles around the cottage, before she stops at the front door again, studying it closely. 

“Not planning to kick my door down, are you Agent Danvers?”

  
  
The woman whirls around, probably looking like a deer in the headlights, judging by the way her eyebrows raise behind her sunglasses.

Lena shoulders past, opening the door to step inside. She looks back at her.

“It’s unlocked. So.”

Alex takes off the glasses and hangs them on her shirt collar as she follows.

“No, I was just... Never mind.”

Lena sets her basket of radishes and carrots on top of her counter and washes her hands, before cocking a hip against it and arching an eyebrow at the agent, arms crossed.

“Let me guess, Kara told you about my location?”

Alex rolls her eyes.

“Ugh, no. She flat-out refused to tell me where you were, and I couldn’t even bribe her with food to get the information out of her.”

Huh. 

Her stomach flutters at that knowledge, against her will.

“How’d you find me, then?”

Lena’s a little impressed, to be honest. If Lex had managed to find her location first, she’d probably have been dead by now.

“She refused to tell me, but she’s also terrible at non-answers. Her facial expressions give her away, tell me everything I need to know.”

  
  
“Right…”

“I tracked her phone.”

Lena snorts.

Ah. Of course.

“Anyway, I’m here to, uh-” Alex clears her throat. “Make sure all was well, check the perimeter.”

“Really? You flew all the way over here to check for the safety of my undisclosed location, that only Kara, and now you, know?”

Alex shifts on her boots awkwardly.

“There’s no need to play coy with me, Agent Danvers. Let’s face it, you’re here to make sure I’m not doing anything evil, correct?”

The red-haired woman takes in a breath.

“Look. Kara may believe the best in people, that’s her whole thing, but I need to be the realistic and cautious one. Even if I _want_ to believe what she told me, that you’re just looking to have some peace and quiet, I need to confirm that myself, judging by your track record.

“With- with your whole brain-washing plan. Not everything before that,” Alex continues.

“Okay,” Lena shrugs.

“What?”

“Have at it,” she gestures around her cottage. “Search away, Agent.”

Alex stares at her for a moment, before turning to look through the things on her shelves and search in nooks and crannies.

Lena, on the other hand, starts on her soup. Washes the vegetables, clearing away the dirt, and chops them up into small, even chunks. She checks up on Alex, who’s still in the sitting room for whatever reason, while she’s waiting for the meat to simmer.

She finds her thumbing through the pages of one of her books.

“Not entirely sure how efficient it’ll be to go through every single one of those, but be my guest.”

Alex looks up at her.

“Virginia Woolf, huh?” She raises the book to eye level.

“...Yes?”

“Cool.” 

Alex snaps it shut and gently tucks it back into the shelf.

“Well, I’m done here.”

“Really?” Lena raises an eyebrow. “You haven’t even checked my bedroom. Or the basement.”

“It’s called _trust_ , Lena.”

“Just an hour ago, you said your whole spiel about needing to be realistic and cautious.”

She starts to answer, but then-

“Oh! God, I think the broth’s about to boil over. Hold that thought.”

Lena moves towards the kitchen, with Alex right behind. The bubbles dissipate as she lowers the flame.

“See, _this_ is why. You are _clearly_ not doing something evil right now. Unless you put those radishes in, oh my god-”

“What? They’re healthy.”

Alex makes a slight face at that.

Lena smirks. “You and Kara really are sisters.”

The red-haired woman shrugs. “So we’ve been told.”

“I could still be doing something nefarious, you know. Making soup doesn’t mean I can’t be a killer.”

She stirs the broth—now full of carrots and tender meat—for a moment, then taps the ladle on the side of the pot before placing it carefully on a plate. A few droplets run down the handle, still, and Lena tsks at the sight.

“Mhmm. Yes, you’re right. At your insistence, I’ve decided that I will be checking your basement for any and all corpses.”

“Very funny.”

Lena starts to add some potatoes in, along with some more salt and garlic. She picks up the plate of cut-up radishes, but stops. Turns to Alex.

“You want some? I’ll even leave the radishes out.”

It’s a peace offering. And Alex knows this, she thinks. Which is why...

“Sure, thanks. Haven’t had time for proper food in ages,” the woman says, face relaxed.

Lena sets the plate of radishes down and continues stirring.

“No problem, Alex.”

.

.

.

Later that evening, once they’ve finished the soup, the two of them sit on opposite sides of the small sitting room, each with their own respective book. 

Lena thought she’d be annoyed with someone from National City coming to invade the space she’s made for herself, but to her surprise, she finds that she doesn’t mind much. It’s a sign she’s healing, she thinks. She doesn’t feel the need to shut herself into a box, doesn’t feel the need to mark metaphorical chalk lines of _your space_ and _my space_. The tension in her shoulders is much, much less than what she’d been carrying for the majority of her life now, her features softened by tranquil mornings and crisp night air.

It’s quiet, and the only sound is the flipping of pages until-

“Ah, fuck,” Alex says suddenly.

Lena looks up to see the woman with her phone in hand, looking irritably at the screen.

“What?”

Alex turns her phone off and leans forward on the couch, pinching her nose.

“My flight back got cancelled. I’m stuck in Ireland for the next day-and-a-half unless I can, I don’t know, swim back to National City.”

“That’s certainly not ideal.”

  
  
“Nope.” Alex looks at her. “You wouldn’t happen to know any motels or anything I can stay at around here, would you? I drove a fuckton just to get out here.”

“Yeah… the closest thing to civilization out here is a small town that’s a thirty-minute drive from here.”

“Wait, how the hell do you have service, then? My phone’s fine.”

“I have my ways,” Lena shrugs. “The town doesn’t have lodging, so you’re kind of stuck, it looks like.”

“Ugh.”

Alex turns to look outside the window, looking like she’s judging just how comfortable a night in her rental car would be.

Lena frowns.

_God._

Spending a few hours with Alex is fine, she’s a quiet companion and they can just sit and read. No pressure. But letting her stay the night, and then some? Another matter entirely. Lena kind of wants to just let her sleep in her car, but…

She’d feel kind of bad, to be honest.

And it’s not like she doesn’t have room for another person for a day.

“You can stay here for a night, if you’d like.”

There it is. She can’t take it back now, even if she’d like to.

“You’d have to sleep on that couch, though, since I don’t have another bedroom, but it would probably be more comfortable than in the backseat of a car. And a rental at that.” Lena wrinkles her nose. “You have no idea where it’s been.”

“Oh god, thank you so much, Lena.”

Alex looks at her gratefully as Lena stands up from her armchair.

“I’m gonna go get you some blankets, then.”

\--

Alex is already up when Lena wakes, which is surprising, honestly. Because Lena wakes up pretty damn early. The sun has barely risen, and the birds are still quiet.

She’s still lying on the couch, reading the book she picked up yesterday, but still. She’s awake.

Lena strolls by to get to the kitchen, taking out a kettle and a mug from her cupboards.

Alex looks up.

“You want some tea?” Lena asks, as she fills the kettle with water.

The woman sits up from the couch. “Yeah, tea sounds good. Thanks again for letting me crash here, by the way.”

Lena waves her off. “It’s fine. It’s kind of nice to have a little more social interaction, actually.”

She grabs another mug and sets it onto the counter.

“How long have you been alone out here?”

Lena pauses.

“Well," she starts, slowly. "I haven’t been completely alone. I go to town every week, and there are people to talk to there. But living here?”

  
  
She thinks for a moment.

“Eight or nine months now, I think?”

Alex hums. “Well, it’s good that you’ve been talking to people.”

“Yeah, I might lose my mind, otherwise.”

She finishes making the tea as Alex goes to brush her teeth.

When Alex emerges from the bathroom, looking a little less groggy, Lena hands her her cup.

“I’m gonna go work in my lab for a bit, if you want to come. It’s in my basement.”

The woman perks up at that.

“You’ve got a lab down there? Cool, yeah, I’ll come. I wanna see what you’ve got down there.”

She follows Lena down.

It’s much less mustier than it used to be, but it’s still not the sort of pristine, sleek lab she’s been used to her whole life.

There are cardboard boxes full of test tubes and petri dishes on wobbly metal shelves, a few of which have been left opened on the ground. There’s a wall of shelves containing various chemicals and elements she may need.

“There isn’t a lot right now, but I make do. I’ve got the basic lab essentials.”

Alex picks up a box of pipette tips and sets it down, before running her eyes along the room, eyes landing on microscopes, among other things.

“Looks like it,” she says. “What’re you working on, right now?”

“Just some small things here and there,” she shrugs. “Unless I make a discovery that leads to something bigger.”

“Gotcha.”

Lena explains her plans for the day, modified here and there based on Alex’s suggestions, and gets to work, with her help.

Watching the other woman work, Lena is kind of impressed.

“I’ve said this before, but your talents are _sorely_ wasted at the DEO.”

Alex chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

.

.

.

“Checkmate.”

Alex groans out loud at the word, staring at the chessboard like it’s offended her.

“This is your fourth win in a row, Lena. _How_ ? I’m not _that_ bad at chess.”

Lena smirks.

“Child chess prodigy, remember?”

  
  
“Ugh. Okay, one more round.”

They set up the pieces.

And then it’s quiet for a while, except for the occasional _your turn_ , or betrayed noise (mostly from Alex’s end). Until-

“Don’t act like you can hide it from me, though.”

Lena’s eyes snap up to look at Alex.

“I’m sorry?”

“Ugh. You two have it _so_ bad for each other, but _still_ won’t acknowledge it.”

“What-”

“I saw the look on your face when I told you Kara refused to tell me where you were, alright?”

The woman moves her rook two squares.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Lena blocks her from taking her knight.

“Really? Then what’s the deal with you two, then? All mopey and shit.”

Alex moves her own knight ahead, but it instantly gets captured by Lena’s bishop.

“Damn,” she mutters.

“There _is_ no deal. We’re just friends- _Were_ . _Were_ just friends. Best friends. And now we’re not, simple as that.”

Alex makes an unconvinced hum.

“And I’m not _mopey_.”

“Sure you aren’t.”

“I’m not.”

Alex moves her queen, leaving her bishop right in the open to be captured.

Lena narrows her eyes at that.

_What the hell is she playing at?_

“Well even if you aren’t, Kara sure as hell is. She’s been moping around for _months_ , moaning about Lena this, Lena that.”

“ _Alex,_ ” the woman mimics in a decidedly-not-Kara-like tone, “What if Lena’s in grave danger? I just _have_ to drop every single _one_ of my duties and go look for her, all. Over. The. _W_ _orld_. I’m in loOoOove with her.”

“She-”

Lena accidentally knocks over a piece, swearing before righting it again.

“Alright,” Alex says in her normal voice. “Maybe she didn’t _actually_ say that last bit. But she might as well have.”

Alex moves her bishop three spaces.

“That’s still not-”

“There’s something significant here, otherwise the two of you wouldn’t be _this_ astronomically upset about everything. You have to love something _damn_ hard to be _this_ hurt when you lose it.”

Lena moves to block the bishop from taking her queen, not daring to look Alex in the eye.

“Look,” she continues. “It’s possible that there isn’t something more going on between you two. But there’s an undeniable connection there. You two gravitate towards each other. I see it. We all see it.”

Alex moves a pawn forward.

“ _And_ I saw your face just a few moments ago, too.”

“We’re not even friends anymore,” she insists, weakly.

Lena captures it.

“Oh yeah? Why did you keep that book Kara gave you, then, if you’re so through with your friendship?”

_Oh._

_Oh god._

“Just admit it.”

“There isn’t anything to-”

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

Alex moves one final piece.

“I-”

Then sits back, arms crossed, looking smug.

“Checkmate.”

Lena doesn’t know what to say to that.

.

.

.

Later that evening, when Lena and Alex are sat in the sitting room reading again, Lena does some thinking. Weighs her options.

She speaks, suddenly.

“And what if I was?”

A beat.

Alex smirks and closes her book, as if she had been waiting for Lena to say those very words ever since that afternoon.

“Then it wouldn’t be the end of the world. And your feelings aren’t one-sided, you know.”

So she’d been told. But even then… 

Even _if_ Kara loved her, in _that_ way… 

They wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.

There’s so much history, so many glass shards protruding from the mess of their relationship, from where they left things before Lena left. They’re still countless tearful, honest conversations from being remotely _close_ to okay again. Ones that Lena’s _still_ not sure she’s ready for yet, even now.

Alex studies her face, looking a little sad at what she finds.

“It’s okay to let people in, Lena,” she says, gently. “But it’s also okay to work on yourself first, and decide for yourself if you want to try again. To reach out. Kara may be my sister, but we were good friends before this whole mess happened, too. I’d like the best for you.”

Lena’s vision goes the teeniest bit blurry, at that.

“Thank you. And. We were, weren’t we?”

An affirmative hum.

She sniffs, wiping at her nose.

“Well, how are things going with Kelly?”

Alex’s face turns soft, then. Softer than Lena’s ever seen it.

“Amazing. _She’s_ amazing,” she says with a smile and a faraway look in her eyes. “Yeah, she… she makes me the best version of myself I’ve ever been.”

Lena smiles.

“I’m glad.”

.

.

.

When it’s time for Alex to leave, Lena sees her out. 

“Safe journeys. Don’t die,” she tells Alex.

“Thanks,” she says in reply. “And as for you… don’t start talking to squirrels and eating dirt, now.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

They exchange looks of understanding and single nods. (They’re not at the level of familiarity needed for goodbye hugs, anyhow.)

Alex is halfway to her car when Lena suddenly says:

“If the world needs any help saving, you know who to call.”

Alex turns back to look at her.

“And. And say hello to Kara for me.”

The woman gives her a small smile.

“Will do.”

\--

It takes three years, but Lena finally finds herself outside of Kara’s door, lighter than she’s ever been in her life. 

Half-expecting Kara to turn her away, she knocks, anyway.

The door opens.

And Kara’s there, looking the same as always.

Lena takes in the flutter of her eyelashes, the curve of her lips, the gentleness of her eyes.

“Lena,” she breathes out. 

“Hey.”

She feels herself drink in the sight of Kara. Feels herself wondering if home isn’t a place, after all.

“Are- are you-”

“Yes.”

Kara smiles, eyes shining.

“Can I come in?”

Nodding, she opens the door wider, all the way.

They smile at each other.

“We have a lot to catch up on, I think.”

Lena steps inside. They’re going to be okay. 

More than, even.

She just knows it.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all much for all the kudos and kind words on my last fic! I hear y'all, I loved the ostrich too. That gremlin was an absolute blast to write. Anyway, writing this fic was cathartic as hell and not gonna lie, I was lowkey living vicariously through Lena through a lot of this. I just... *clenches teeth* TEA and GARDENING and BOOKS. in IRELAND. Hope you guys enjoyed!


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